


Bloodlines

by Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492



Series: The Bloodlines We Carry [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Ancestors, F/M, I am so for this bloodline being canon, Past Relationship(s), The Fryes are descendants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492/pseuds/Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492
Summary: The Fryes all had secrets. Some more than others.--A collection of one shots depicting the secrets that Cecily, Ethan, Jacob, Evie, and Lydia had.--





	1. Cecily Frye

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Summary: Cecily Frye held a secret, one she intended to keep until death. Of course, she would leave it behind to where only her children could find it.

_What would Ethan think?_

She finds herself asking the same thing over and over again each time she opens the chest. Its made of fine wood, leather, and metal designed with French writing dating back a century ago. No one would suspect that the very history of the chest remained with the very people she kills.

Opening the chest, Cecily looked down into it, at the items she spent so hard trying to hide. Letters and books, flint pistols and hidden blades tucked away in boots. A wooden box, containing the one thing she could never wear, and resting upon it was a pocketwatch. The painting on it depicting that of a fair red headed woman, a jeweled Templar cross around her neck.

Such a beautiful, deadly secret hidden away. 

The England Brotherhood wouldn't understand.

 _Ethan_ wouldn't understand.

Taking off her hidden blades she places them within the chest, before placing her own stopwatch above it. Locking it away, pushing the chest back under the wooden floorboards of the Frye home, Cecily looked down at the wooden floor. 

It's a sickening feeling to expect your death. Not one by a bullet or a Templar, but by the very life you created. 

Ethan doesn't understand how difficult pregnancies are. He doesn't know that there is more than  _one._ Hell, she didn't know until the kicking began.

Placing her hand onto her stomach, Cecily closed her eyes, a sileny prayer, a silent promise.

"I leave my secret with you." She whispers, lips dried and cracking, as she looked down upon her pregnant stomach. 

Her children would find the chest, and if they couldn't their children would and so on. Until the Fryes faded into the same shadows that they hid behind. 

_"I leave my bloodline with you."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I decided to write this I had to come up with a theory for this bloodline.
> 
> I ended up with a theory that Elise de la Serre had a son during her time away from her family and Arno. Knowing how dangerous it would be if the Templar Order in England were to discover him(fun fact thanks to wiki: the England Templar Order really hates the De La Serres for reasons that remain unknown). I figured that Elise knowing how dangerous her own life is after her fathers death, would have written a note to Arno about her child. Just the symbolism of Arno being adopted into the de la Serres family, just for him to take in the last de la Serre makes my angsty heart happy. Her son, would have ended up getting married, and he would have a daughter. His daughter being the late Cecily Frye, who I am sure he would have passed down all of the de la Serres family possessions thanks to Arno.
> 
> Is this crazy? Most likely yes, but Great-Grandmother Elise definitely passed down her smile and wicked sense of humor and sarcasm to Jacob and Evie.


	2. Ethan Frye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan Frye had his own secrets. Sometimes he wishes he had said something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my characterization of Ethan Frye is good. It's a bit hard since there isn't much known about what he was like as a child, or when Cecily was still alive. So, let's see how this goes shall we?

_He had not been born an Assassin._

There was no bloodline or rich heritage. There was no father to guide him, or mother to teach him. There wasn't even a sister or a brother that he could confine in, and maybe that was what truly made Ethan Frye who he was.

* * *

 

When he was a child he lived on the streets. Thin rags covering his dirty skin and the shoes he wore were two sizes to big. Not that it bothers him. There are much worse things that eat away at him every time the sun goes down. Its the cold, the bitter cold, that only worsens everytime water falls from the sky. Its the ache that worsens and worsens until it dulls into nothingness.

Thats when he can sleep.

* * *

When he is not a child anymore, yet not a man either, Ethan Frye leaves London. A world that he didn't know existed opens up to him giving him something to  _live_ for. 

Finding work is hard, and the different languages are a surprise to him. However, Ethan has delt with worse, and kind strangers who speak things he cannot understand are much better than  _cold_ and  _hunger._

Eventually he does learn the language and where he is at. 

France, rebuilding itself in the aftermath of a revolution, that he didn't even know took place. 

France, it's where he meets new people, tries foods he never knew existed, and meets Ava. Ava is a bakers daughter, with hair the color of gold, and kindness that Ethan has never seen before. She tells him these stories of Crusades and an Inquisition south of France. Of a knights order and the ones who kill in the shadows.

He doesn't know if they are real or not.

If he should be scared or not.

At least, that is until days later, when Ava is found in the street covered in blood that reminds him of the butcher who used to yell at him in London. 

It hurts him, it  _angers_ him, that his friend is dead. That  _she_ is dead, so he searches.

Hunting down ghost stories until he meets one:

Laura Dorian-Clemens.

* * *

She tells him these things, about Ava, about France. A new world is opened up to him and he is not sure if he should be liking it or not.

Laura then trains him, fighting in ways that are foreign to him, to London and the bakery shops in France. She beats him, of course, until Ethan is black and blue. Laying upon hard stone that only makes him think of how Ava must have felt in her final moments.

There are times when Laura is nice. When she tells him of her father who died before he could know of her existence. Of the young novice his age, that held a connection to one of the last assassins to have known her father. 

That lead to questions, questions that Ethan was not afraid to ask this time. 

That lead him to Cecily.

* * *

He never tells Cecily about living in the streets, or the girl that he didn't know he loved until he was much older.

He never tells her about his blooding, about how he cried to Laura until he passed out, about how the man still haunts him.

He never tells her why he doesn't want children. Why every time she mentions it, he ends up having nightmares about his children living like he once did.

He never tells her how much he hated himself when she said she was pregnant, and all he could think of was blood and death.

He never tells her how everytime he promised to her that she was the only woman he loved or ever loved...that  _that_ was a lie aswell.

* * *

On his death bed he held many secrets. 

A life that he didn't wish to tell to his very own children.

Ethan Frye died with his secrets, wondering in his last moments if Cecily had any of her own.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Callum Lynch's bloodline, he had an ancestor named Laura Clemens who lived during the same time that Arno Dorian's child would have lived, and considering that Arno is apart of that side of Cal's bloodline...
> 
> So according to this new information given with the film, Arno Dorian had a daughter, who went by the name Laura Clemens. Making it safe to say that Arno either died before knowing he had a child or the mother just never told him.


	3. Evie Frye, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie writes a letter to the one she loves and cares for most, about the items that hold meaning to her in her life.  
> -Coilates to Chapter 1- -Post Jack the Ripper DLC- -Can be read as Fryecest-

_1\. The Necklace._

_I never showed you it, never mentioned it, and I suppose a part of me was afraid. Afraid that this was not a spoil, not taken by an Assassin as proof of what was done. That mother was hiding something, something that even I would have not of understood._

_It was the when we were twelve, father had taken you with him, not trusting you to be the one left alone in our home. I had been explpring the house, trying to use the second sight that I had read so much about. That was when I found it, underneath our bedroom floor no less. A large chest, hidden by the wooden flooring of our home, something I still believe to this day that father didn't know about._

_I examined it first once I pulled it from its grave. There was writing on it, I can not tell you what it said, but I identified it to be French. Inside of it was books filled with portraits, documents and letters, a crimson book thats lettering was so old I could not begin to make out what it said. However, I identified it to be a Codex of a sort. There was a emerald dress in there as well, mid to late eighteenth century, and beneath that was blue clothing. Designed for a woman to wear, with trousers no less, as I had found them folded beneath, along with a pair of old boots. Flintlock pistols, a sword, and oddly enough a hidden blade. The design unlike any that I have ever seen, had been placed in the chest. Then at the bottom was a pocket watch and a wooden box. The pocket watch didn't work, however a portrait of a red haired woman was inside. I suppose she was the owner of these belongings, but why would our mother hide these things? Then I discovered what was inside the box, a necklace. It was beautiful, but I knew very well who its owner was. A Templar. The cross was made from crimson gems, enlaid in gold, hanging from a gold chain. Beautiful, extremely valuable, and very old._

_After seeing it I placed it back. Placed everything back, pushing the chest back into its grave, before fixing the wooden floors. I paniced, any curiosity about who this woman had been, or why this Templar necklace didn't resemble any I have ever seen or read about. Or why our mother had this to begin with. Because, even back then I knew that this was not fathers doing._

_I wanted to tell him, to tell you, but I kept it hidden. However, the necklace had burned itself into my mind. I needed to learn more so I took to studying the Templar Order that had been active in France. I found a last name, a common name, one that had ruled over this Templar Order for two hundred and fifty years. De La Serre. Originating the Order in 1543, they kept power until their Order collapsed around the time that the French Revolution was coming to an end. Oddly enough, it is said that they originated from an Assassin that had been alive during the Spanish Inquisition. According to the records that the England Assassin Brotherhood had of the De La Serres at the time, the saying had been around for decades, but was fuelled by a painting of a moorish dressed Assassin. They had it hanging in their home alongside familiar portraits; the only indication of who the woman may have been came from the title of the painting itself. Maria. I find it unnerving that the De La Serres never denied this claim, embracing upon a saying that they originated from an assassin named Maria, but then again I doubt that I would ever understand a Templar._

_In the end, Jacob, I never learned the red haired womans name, just that it began with an E, and that she had been the last De La Serre by name. There were hints that she had a child at some point, but nothing was ever proven._

_The name of her possible child, however, lead to a Grandchild, one that had been raised by the French Brotherhood by their mentor, Arno Victor Dorian._

_Her grandchilds name was Cecily._

* * *

_2\. The Top Hat_

_It sits in my lap as I write this. You always wore the thing everywhere until we parted ways._

_When we were children you always had a hat on. Ever since Grandmother gave you one as a gift you became obsessed with them. I was never fond of hats, it was another difference we shared within the things we had in common. But it was something you enjoyed that didn't end with you in trouble with Father._

_As the years went on and our relationship, our bond with each other, grew with our training, I wanted to buy you one. I had seen the flatcap in a store window on one of our rare trips out of Crawley. You didn't see it at the time, and I was rather thankful. If it wasn't for Grandmother giving me the money for it I doubt you would have ever of gotten the thing. It was too much trouble, at least I thought that, until I gave it to you. Your hazel eyes lightened up, you crushed me in a huh, and wore it even after fathers passing. Then, you wanted a top hat, once we had arrived in London. At the time my mind was on more important matters, but you were so persistant on me being the one to pick it out. You kept it on for even longer than your flatcap, wearing it when we parted ways. When you visited India with Jack the Lad. When I returned, my name a Frye again, no ring on my finger._

_I remember arriving back from India after mine and Mr. Green's fallout. As blessed as we were to end on good terms, me still having novices in India, I was still rather upset. Not that I wanted to show it at the time you knew as soon as you saw me that I was taking it as good as I could at the time._ _You placed your tophat on my head, practiclly destroying one of my braids in the process, a half hearted smile on your face. You told me to not think about Greenie. That I had to see all of the changes to London, meet London's new Brotherhood, and have drinks with the Rooks before we were to go back to your home. You kissed me that night when I gave it back to you. Years of us being apart, of what we had once had before London, all came rushing back all because of your top hat._

_When Emmett came along, a motherless son, with a note from the Godfather stating that Miss Attaway requested her son to go back to his father once he was of age, I didn't know how to respond. Emmett was your son no doubt, and I never questioned your interactions with the Templar after learning of him. Of course, you wanted us to form a connection. Ending with me buying Emmett a hat of his own, your own tophat sitting upon your head, as you smiled at us by the shops door._

_That was a good day._

 


	4. Jacob Frye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jacob gets anything from Evie he keeps it. He doesn't really know why, but truthfully he does. You always try to keep what you cannot have. Even if it is in the smallest ways.

It begins when Evie buys him a pocket watch. He keeps it on him during his blooding, and doesn't take it off until London. Even then he keeps it inside a tin box knowing that he can always get it out if he ever needs it. So, he places the tin box onto the desk in their train. Never taking it out but always knowing that its there. It brings him some form of comfort after every fight. Some little reminder of what they once had. Yet, it hurts, because there is something broken between them, and Jacob doesn't know if they would be able to fix any of it. 

* * *

It happens again once she leaves him, leaves London for Henry Green. He wants to be happy even for Greenie, but he is rather unpleased. Guilt forms, eats away at him more than Roth ever did. Joined alongside by his anger at himself for never being good enough for Evie. Never did he do anything right for her, follow any of her plans, or missions on pieces of eden. He only caused her problems and stress. Something that father always blamed him for having. Its all of these thoughts, all of these emotions, that has him hording the letters that she sends. These letters and small trinckets from a land he'll never see let alone step foot on. A land that he has lost Evie too. So of course he hordes them, keeps them stuffed away in his drawers and on his mantels. Emmett is young when he notices it, only twelve, but even he does not ask about any of it. He doesn't ask about who Evie is, or where India is located. And Jacob doesn't know whether to tell him or to cry that his son doesn't even know who Evie is to him.

* * *

Then there is Greenies flower book, although it belongs more to Evie than to the former. He finds it in Greenies old shop, after Emmett decided to relax there after his blooding. A nagging feeling forms upon finding it. Wasn't it this that caused Greenie to ensnare Evie? Surely it wasn't the mans charming jar of eyes that he had hidden among his oddities. He ends up placing it on his desk, next to a dusty tin can that once sat on the train. He doesn't open it, accept for when he wants to touch something that Evie put so much time and work into. Emmett doesn't ask, which is a good thing, when all things are considered.

* * *

It isn't until after his almost death, and Evie's return that he notices his problem. He doesn't know how to explain the watch, or the letters, or the trinckets, or the books. He tries to explain why he has her old assassin coat and cape folded neatly under his bedding, however he stops himself. Evie watches him questionably before handing him a letter. "Its my secrets. I thought that you would like to know them."

He takes it, places it in a new spot, and he is sure that Evie watches him closely while he does this. "Can I ask you something?" He finds himself saying, and Evie simply nods not saying a word. "Why did you and Greenie never have kids? Hell I had Emmett, yet I never married." He tells her, wanting to joke, to tease, to be the Jacob Frye that he had been in his youth. Evie purses her lips and looks down at her gloved hands. "I never wanted a child with Henry. I never wanted many things from him. But I was young Jacob. Young and foolish for thinking that the experience Henry was willing to give me would be an offer I would never receive again." Her voice is soft, if not a bit broken, and he doesn't like this Evie.

"Do you want to start over? Like we should have after-after..." Fathers death, London, Roth, Crawford Starrick, India. The list goes on, and it pains him that it does. That they have had so many chances, yet they never took them. He simply collected things from someone he couldn't have, and she placed herself within a life that she didn't want to be in as the years passed on.

"Yes. My dearest Jacob. I would."


	5. Evie Frye -Part 2-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Evie Frye's final letter to Jacob, she tells him about the last two things that held meaning to her, before finally giving the letters to him.

_3\. The Notebook_

_I am sure that you know of this one, Jacob. Perhaps you didn't think anything of it. Or perhaps you simply forgot. Remember that notebook I had? You swore up and down the streets of Crawley telling everyone in sight that it was a diary! I had been so mad at you for it that I hid it away and didn't speak to you for a week. It was the brown leathered one, a gift that I had been given on my fourteenth birthday by Grandfather. He told me that it was the last thing he had bought in France. Assuming that you have read the last letter, I assume that you know why I kept the thing around._

_I wrote in it everyday, front to back, no spaces, and when I would run out of room I would write on the sides and in the corners. Even when I ran out of room I would shove important papers into it. The poor thing became stuffed._

_Yet you never said a thing, you simply gave me more paper, until I had to retire the notebook. After that I never bought another one, and I never got rid of the one that I had. You see, Jacob, that notebook contained something very important to me. To us. A bloodline, Jacob, our bloodline. Our Grandparents. Mother. Father. The De La Serres. Maria. It all went into that journal. Every bit of information that I could find out about them, ranging from the Spanish Inquisition to the French Revolution. It all went into that journal. Grandfathers experiences in France, those old stories of the Golden Age that Grandmother would tell us about, filled those pages. The information that I gathered over Cecily, our mother, went into those pages. And after fathers passing I put him in there as well._

_I placed you in there too Jacob. Those pages that were placed in there since there was no room belong to you. I don't think I'll ever have the heart to place myself in there. Perhaps Emmett will do it and maybe he'll pass it on to Lydia._

_That's why this notebook is important. That is why it means so much. Because it is a gift, held dearly by our Grandfather, and it holds our bloodline within its leather interior...I know you felt lonely after father died. I did too. It felt as if we were the only Fryes left in the world. But Jacob? If Maria had lived and the De La Serres had lived, if our Grandparents and Parents had lived, passing down this bloodline then surely we were not alone. Surely this couldn't end with us. And it didn't Jacob. We have Emmett, and Lydia, and the many more that will walk upon this earth._

_We were never alone. We never will be. All thanks to this notebook. I'm sure of it._

* * *

_4\. The Ring_

_The final part in this letter. The final thing that means so much to me. It's the ring Jacob. You gave it to me when we restarted together. After everything with Henry...we rebuilt, and I had learned of what I had lost. I had learned how much you had missed me by the things you kept of me over the years._

_This ring was the symbol of us coming together. A token from our trip we had taken to Scottland. A silver band with a celtic knot etched into it. That meant the world to me Jacob, and it still does mean the world to me._

_I wanted that to be the ending to this letter. The things that held such meaning in my life: the necklace, the tophat, the notebook, and the ring. They are close to my heart, to my very soul, but Jacob...you are my heart. You are my soul. You have been for a very long time._

_I only wish I had told you these things._

_But I didn't for I had many secrets Jacob._

_And you, my heart and soul, you were my biggest secret of them all._

_With Love, Evie Cecily Frye._

_August 4th, 1887._

* * *

The tombs are located in the countryside, hidden amoung the landscape of England, far away from the cities. You have to go by train, and then you must walk in order to get there. Something that Evie feels like she needs. Even more so when she finally reaches the tombs, gated away by a heavy metal gate. The metal door leading to the tombs opens rather easily, leading to a long set of stairs dropping down beneath the rich soil of England. It isn't hard to find it, like a mausoleum, the tombs are sectored off by year of birth, and as a mausoleum they are buried in stone. Their coffins placed within.

Once she finds his burial site she cannot help but to trace her fingers against the stone. 

* * *

**Jacob Ethan Frye, 1847-1896 Master Assassin and Mentor of the Brotherhood.**

* * *

Evie places the old wooden box down first, containing the necklace. The tophat goes beside it, along with the notebook. Nestling all of the items against the side of his burial chamber, before finally placing the letters on top, below his name. The ring holding the letters down.

* * *

"I leave my secrets with you. I leave my most valuable things that I held dear with you. Take care of them Jacob. Take care of them, and I'll be sure to take care of Emmett and Lydia for as long as I live...

Goodbye my heart and soul. 

Goodbye my dearest brother."

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Bonus Chapter: Lydia Frye, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are my extra chapters where Lydia writes letters to her father after discovering a family secret. 
> 
> Featuring Robert Topping who is still cheating death, Emmett Frye who thought she already knew, and Evie Frye who is still breathing just to support her family(and Topping).

_Dear Mr. Topping,_

_I am writing to you reguarding my to my Grandparents. I know that Emmett left you to watch over their estate. Although I fail to see how that was a good idea even in your old age. I would be forever grateful if you could deliver this letter to him._

_Your Great-Goddaughter, Lydia Frye_

* * *

_Dear Lydia,_

_I am not that bad, and don't you dare begin to argue with me! The war took away all of my fighters what else am I supposed to do? Anyhoo! I will be sure to deliver that letter._

_Still alive and kicking, Robert Topping_

* * *

_Dear Father,_

_While in Paris, I came across a rather unusual fellow. An old man by the name of Dean LaHoche had pulled me aside after hearing my surname. He said that he knew my family. I didn't understand him. Not at first, because when had Jacob or Evie gone to France? Then he explained to me that his Grandfather had been a friend to Ethan and Cecily Frye. Sad to say that it took me a moment, but he eventual took me upstairs to an upper level of the Cafe._

_We spoke for a long time, but then he asked if I knew about Cecily's Grandmother. Why that would be my Great-Great-Great Grandmother. I didn't even understand why he brought it up until he said that the owner of the Cafe had left a family possession of theirs up here, a wooden box._

_But Father, are we related to Templars? Did Evie know? Did Jacob know? Did my Great-Grandparents even know?_

_I'm almost scared about returning this letter._

_About confirming this secret that must have plagued this family ever since we stopped being de la Serres and started being Fryes._

_I will stay in France for as long as I can gathering information. I'll be sure to share it with you, but if this is a family secret...make sure that Topping isn't reading this then._

_Your daughter, Lydia._

* * *

 

_Dear Father,_

_I was not expecting a history lesson to go along with this, but perhaps it is for the best. Maybe there is something that these World Leaders fuelling this 'War to End All Wars' could learn from the French Revolution._

_I came across names today while going through archieves: De La Serre, Dorian, LaHoche, Germain._

_A list of Assassins and Templars that were active during the French Revolution. I discovered that the King of France at the time was burning Templars at the stake, and Assassins weren't fairing any better against this man._

_It was a bit depressing in a way. That the people of France, Assassins, and Templars all with different ideals and beliefs were being killed by the one ruling over their land._

_On a better note, I was able to aquire the last two generations of de la Serres. I could not aquire the information for all of them. Two and a half centuries of de la Serres. That is a very long list mind you, but the names I did find were Francois, Julie, and Elise._

_Perhaps Evie would like to look into that?_

_Your daughter, Lydia_

* * *

_Dear Father,_

_I found the descendants of Arno Victor Dorian. His daughter Laura Clemens married a Mcklye. Their in America now. Maybe their even in the war. But I would like to find them._

_Your daughter, Lydia_

* * *

_Dear Father,_

_I discovered a painting today, a portrait, one that Evie used to speak to me about. It is a woman, an Assassin. I have found the date that it was painted and a title, a name to be exact. Maria. The painting was in their home, next to a portrait of who I believe to be Elise. Judging by the date, could she be the ancestor of the de la Serres? Is that why they kept it in their possession?_

_Either way, I am having both paintings sent to Jacob and Evies countryside estate._

_Your daughter, Lydia_

_P.S. Do not let Topping destroy these paintings. I understand he is old, but he still destroys more things than Grandpa does._

* * *

_Dear Father,_

_I found a corgi today._

_I think I am going to name him Desmond._

_After the corgi that Grandpa Jacob saved._

_I am also writing to you as I will be returning to London. The war is headed there with each passing moment._

_I'll hope to see you soon._

_Your daughter, Lydia(and Desmond)_

* * *

_Dear Lydia,_

_Have you not looked under the floorboard of Jacob and Evies childhood room?_

_Your father, Emmet_

_P.S. Topping is not as bad as Jacob, and you really need to learn your family secrets._

* * *

_Dear Lydia,_

_Ignore your father._

_Love, Evie_

_P.S. Yes, Jacob was worse._

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Bonus Chapter: Lydia Frye, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia took those secrets that her family had and she used them. However, there was still one thing that she didn't know about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I told myself I was going to end this with Chapter 6, but then my brain decided that I needed to write more for this. That and I am all for this bloodline being canon, so I intend to write about it alot more. 
> 
> In conclusion, this is the short conclusion to Bloodlines. Enjoy.

_"Son of a bitch!"_

Lydia screamed as the dart shot out of the hidden blade for what had to be the millionth time today. When she had found the hidden blades of her ancestor she had to admit they were beautiful. A double pronged blade of silver and gold, designed with inaccurate designs, while binding itself all together with a thick dark blue cloth. It was definitely worth the trip to Spain. However, the hidden blades had both a rope dart and a tiny mechanism that shot out a thick, needle-like blade that would pierce through ones flesh. It sounded advanced for its time, and the latter would have been something that Grandpa Jacob would have wanted. But the damn thing was hard to use, whether by it simply being damaged from a final fight or it being out of commission for so long, she didn't know. The rope dart was in fine condition on the right hidden blade, but the little trouble maker on the left didn't want to stay in. No, it just had to shoot back out every damn time she placed the bloody thing back in!

"Are you still trying to fix that? I told you that it is probably the catch that shoots it out thats catching." Evie said, looking up from the newspaper that she had been reading. "Yes, well I don't exactly have Maria here to help me now do I?" Lydia remarked wishing that her ancestor was around to teach her. 

"Even when you do fix it, do you know how to take it apart to clean it? Do you even know how to wield a hidden blade like that?" Evie asked the younger woman. Lydia had gotten Jacob's lack of patience, and as funny as it is at first, eventually it ends with a mini-Jacob sized fit of anger and defeat. "If Maria was here I would ask her, but she has been dead for how many centuries now?"

Folding up the paper, Evie grabbed a stoll and sat across from Lydia, leaning against the wooden table. "You said the same thing about Elise after you fixed her sword. You couldn't use it at first, but you learned." Grabbing her hand, Evie gave it a tight squeeze. Her blue eyes looking into brown ones. "You are so much like your Grandfather. Jacob would have done the same thing. Accept with him there would have been a bigger mess to clean up."

Lydia released the hidden blade onto the table, placing it next to its partner, before dropping her hands into her lap. "You miss him...don't you." It was unsaid. Even Emmett hardly ever spoke of him without this-void-being there. Which always made Lydia feel, odd, out of place. Because she had only been a toddler when he had died. There were no memories, just stories, and items given to her. A home without the man who had made it just that. 

"I miss him. I miss everything about him. And I regret ever thinking that I would be just fine being without him." Evie sighed, looking outside of their homes window, the countryside that Jacob always liked seemed to stretch out for miles. An oasis away from the war. "You know, you haven't learned every secret yet." Lydia jerked up at that, a frown of confussion gracing her features, "But what other secrets does this family have?"

Evie smiled, "Go to Jacobs grave, to his tomb, I know you haven't. There you will find my secrets."

_I still love you Jacob Frye_


End file.
